Big red mule is a vain sort

Last week I found the big red mule standing at the fence, his ears up and his head high, as if he might be ready to talk. I had to tell him he was looking really good.

“I know,” he said, nodding in agreement. “There’s a little pool in the creek on the back side of this pasture. It makes a nice mirror when the light’s just right. I was there yesterday, looking at my image, and I don’t mind saying that I’m truly a beautiful mule.”

This is what I have to put up with to maintain a friendship with a talking mule. It’s enough to make a person sick.

But this is the only mule that’s ever said a word to me, and he’s important to my career as a journalist. When I’m gone, maybe I’ll be remembered as the columnist who talked to a mule.

69 Responses

My Mother will say I was very difficult, stubborn, curious. My wife would agree with Mom. She would also say I am wonderful one moment, frustrating the next, & far too agressive. She would also say that I am too blunt. She always credits me with being the most objective & fair minded person she ever knew but would also swear I am the most difficult & frustrating person (along with her dad) she ever knew. She always complains that I, along with my brothers are far too competitive. “Everything is a competition. It is always about winning.” (I find it odd that she loves that in our oldest son.) Each of our sons will have a different take, but they will all say I could be tough, often too tough & too hot headed. They will credit me with being a good teacher who never asked them to do anything I would not do, or tell them not to do anything that I did. Unfortunately, they will say I could have handled many issues better than I did.

My customers will remember me as someone who knew my business & their business, was honest & fair. They would say that I never asked them to do anything that was not in their best interest or the interest of my company. My competitors will remember me about the same, but would throw in that I was extremely competitive. My bosses woul likely agree that I was their best salesman, but that I often was frustrating because I did things my way & had zero patience for BS. They would fault me for being too blunt & never being being politically correct.

A statue in honor of the great freelosseefizer” RW ” who ask the most pressing question of our age and gave us the answer we never knew we needed.
Toilet Paper— folded or wadded?
Yes a great marble statue of a wad of toilet paper.

When I’m gone, maybe I’ll be remembered as the columnist who talked to a mule.
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Well, if the Mule deniesever speaking a word to you, your Legacy is gonna be in trouble, Leon.
Better take a bigger bag of apples with you, next time.
==

It’s a bit odd but people seem to be surprised that my word is my bond. They may forget but I do not. I don’t look extra-ordinary so maybe that’s part of it. If I say I am going to to do something (damned be the date!) I am going to do it. Maybe it’s because I don’t bring attention to my deeds. Stuff gets done as it should without fanfare from me. I’ve been called mysterious but I am not; ask and I will tell you. I’m loyal to the core. What you see is what you get. And I hope that rather than being memorialized that those who care will do one thing that is out of character for them that is a truly good deed for someone they do not know and say “Sandra would have liked that.” Call it a two-fer. Smile.

Leon, If I’m remembered for anything it’ll be the fact that I caught the smallest tarpon in the world Nov. 18, 1950 (Copeia, 1954, No. 1. pp. 71-72). The record has probably been broken by now but when I wrote the paper about it, 3.7 cm (Std Length) was it. If you’re a competent researcher studying the tarpon, you have to include me in the bibliograph. My 15 minutes of fame! No visiting with talking mules in my resume though. That’s your legacy.

I have no idea whether anyone will even want to remember me but, some years ago, I wrote an essay entitled “My father was a curious man”. I inherited his interest in almost everything that seems puzzling or interesting and hope that one of my grandchildren may write an essay sometime entitled “My grandfather was a curious man” and that they never stop being curious themselves.
I do realise that being termed curious may be a cover for being thought weird, so I’ll admit to that too.

Since I am one of billions I expect I will be remembered generically, It may be as one of many greedy Americans,

a war monger, race hater, religious fanatic, A waster of other peoples wealth, It might be remembered as one of the victims of the nuclear attack on ft hood; another name on a memorial to death that happened so quick we never knew it happened.

More then likely I will be another skull to be drank from on special occasions by people whom don’t exist.

But given my druthers, I’d be remembered for my rock band “Squiggly And The Screaming Pin Wurms”

Our great hit, “The Proof That It’s Pudding Is In The Tasting “followed closely by a number two hit “Don’t Step In That Dog Poop”(I might have relatives living there).

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children…to leave the world a better place…to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”
Emerson

I am kinda like Bill P. My life so far has been extraordinary, but there is really no one that gives a shat. I have worked on all seven continents and too many islands to mention, but who cares. I have been so scared I thought I couldn’t continue, but I did. I thought I was going to be in the stew pot once, but a wild pig showed up and saved the day. Some of the things I did were out of bravery and some were out of stupidity. No one saw the bravery. Everything I did though, was done with honesty, and when I go to my grave everyone that knew me will know that I did not believe in fairy tales…

I remember Francis the Talking Mule as a rerun …My father in law an old Great Depression and WW 2 vet who lived on the edge of town out on Truxillo st. hated the show according to my wife. He hate Hogan’s Heros. McCales Navy and said all this made fun of the real War…

But he was a Man’s Man.. His dad left him and his mom. He went through the Depression in Houston and was sent to Saint Thomas by the priest as acted out at San Jacinto. At Saint Thomas he got a beating he never forgot along with a High School diploma.Went to Pacific and fought for his country and came back to this city where he sold light bulbs and tableclothes and sent 4 kids to college with one an M.D. Greatest Generation. YOU GOT THAT RIGHT !

That no one will remember most of us long after we & those who knew us are gone is so true. That’s OK in my case. However, I can walk through the cemetery in the commuminity where I was raised and the thought has often occurred to me, he/she was such a wonderful person, or such a character. I wish my kids would have known him/her. Unfortunately my kids never will.

Not true Stan. You have forgotten artist, architects, politicos, mass murderers, inventors, saints, sports heroes, etc. They will be remembered until we’re all gone. The human race. We will probably all be gone well before the Sun does it’s thing before burning out. It would be interesting to know just how long mankind will exist.

What will man kind be like in 2000 more years? Which is far less than a nano second in Earth time.

Mr. Hale, you are of course correct. I wasn’t “banned” but enough people didn’t like the innuendo and coarseness of the stories to matter, so I quit contributing for quite a while. This was September-October 2009.

I’m confused. How can we remember you (after reading and enjoying your opinions, your funny, sad, interesting stories and replies, your sharp wit, your dull effort to be p.c. (ha, ha), etc. since joining the drivelists) since you don’t use your real name? I don’t suppose your nickname is going to show up in your obituary? See…one more reason for a get-together. We were talking about beating dead horses, weren’t we? Smile

If anyone would like to take a look at the full musical this song came from here is a link to the first 15 minute segment “A” from a TV version first broadcast in 1958. If you can get past the poor video quality the music is pretty decent.

I stayed awake in bed for a spell last night pondering this post in a column about vanity, what came to mind was a carrot and a stick.
First I thought about some smart people playing a joke for april fools?
But then I thought about a man with a stubborn mule, first he whipped it to get it to pull his wagon, but folks warned him off this tactic sayin he was gonna kill the mule, the he got a stick with a carrot on it and the mule followed the carrot that he he never got,.
Now I suppose who is the bigger jackass is the real question , the mule for movin when getting horse whipped , the man who horsewhupped the mule, the jackass who walked for a carrot he couldn’t reach, er the dern fool who carried the load of a mule because he didn’t want to deal with a stubborn old mule.

I hope my children will be my legacy, no need to do anything special.
Some natives believe you die three times, first when your heart stops, second when your remains are disposed of, and last (most sadly) is when the last person who has a living memory of you passes on.

Today’s paper has numerous comments about the recently departed Jack Pardee. Every statement honored the man. The statements about Jack Pardee, seem so heartfelt & sincere, likely because the folks quoted truly felt that he was a great human in addition to having been a fantastic football player & overall, a successful coach.

I have found that in most cases when someone passes away, people look for something good to say about that person. A number of students I knew or knew of, died when I was teaching HS. In almost every case, it upset the students who knew them. That would be expected. However, one of my students was shot and killed as he was stealikg from someone’s garage. His fellow students expressed feelings ranging from relief to exhalaration. The students didn’t attempt to hide their feelings. Tht is a horrible legacy. I didn’t know the guy because I had only been at the school for a couple of weeks.

Ralph, then there was the preacher who was called upon to conduct the funeral of the man all knew to be the one of the worst thugs around. When he hesitated to agree, the deceased brother said, “Everyone deserves a funeral and if you will say something good about him I’ll give you a $1,000″.

Agreeing to conduct the funeral with that offer, the preacher speaking at the funeral said, “Everyone knows John was about the worst and most useless fellow around. The only good thing I can say about him is that he was better than his brother”.

Speaking of saying something good about the deceased, Friend Bubba’s Great-Uncle Otis passed a few years back. Now Uncle Otis was married to the same woman 20 years, and had five children by her, but was know for taking his marriage vows somewhat lightly- there were several suspected little Otises scattered arount the county. Otis was known to imbide; in fact, it was a bad batch of `shine that did him in. He was no great respecter of other people’s property rights. He spent many a night as a guest of the county for such infractions as drunk and disorderly, petty theft, and wife beating. They funeralized him at the local community church, a place he didn’t frequent very often whilst among the living. The church had no pastor of its own, but was served by a group of rotating circuit-rider preachers based in Nacogdoches. It so happened that the preacher who drew the short straw and was assigned to do Otis’ services, was brand new to the group. He didn’t know Otis or any one else in the community, for that matter. Anxious to make a good impression, he began to lay it on pretty thick about Otis. He extolled Otis’ virtues and told about what a great asset he was to the community, how honest and pious he was, and how he was a good family man and provider. After the preacher had carrird on like that for about twenty minutes, the grieving widow, sitting in the front row, leaned over and whispered to her youngest son sitting next to her, “Leroy, sneak up to that casket and take a peek, and see if that’s Pa in there that he’s talking about.”

Hmmmmm….we have a family cemetery on the old home place. Goes back 4 generations. I recall a few stories about my great grandfather, but not many. It seems to me, that after 3 or 4 generations NO ONE remembers you, except in government documents. Unless you were a superhero, and invented the polio vaccine or walked on the moon.

With all the storm systems moving from west to east through south and central Texas last night, most everyone should have received a pretty good soaking….all the way into Louisiana. Missouri City got 1-9/10 inches, right at 2 inches. Hope the mule was able to get shelter!

There are wonderful wildflowers between Prapie View & Navasota. The grass is not covering them up. My guess is that we still may have a pretty goof wildflower season. I’d estimate Eastern Washington Co. got from 1/2 to 1.5 inches Sunday. I know we got another good rain last night. Yesterday I got the bird feeders filled just as it started sprinkling. Red Birds everywhere, along with a number of small birds & pileated woodpeckers. I also heard, but never could see, what sounded like a European blackbird.

MR.HALE SURELY BY NOW YOU KNOW THAT THE MULE YOU HAVE CONVERSATIONS WITH IS A POLITICIAN RE-INCARNATED AS A MULE. NO DOUBT WHAT PARTY HE WAS FORMERLY AFFILIATED WITH.HE SPEAKS WITH YOU BEACAUSE OF YOUR CONNECTION WITH A NEWSPAPER.YOU KNOW DEAD,ALIVE OR RE-INCARNATED AS A MULE THY NEVER LOSE THEIR DESIRE TO HAVE THEIR B.S.PRINTED IN THE PAPER.THIS BIG RED MULE OF A POLITICIAN IS JUST USING YOU.